


Prove Myself

by kyitsya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidents, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, DID Y'ALL KNOW THAT THE TEMPLE HAS A LAKE LEVEL???, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Goretober, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, I DIDNT BUT HEY THATS SOMETHING, I do not know anything about medicine/physical therapy so have mercy pls, I kinda went sicko mode on the last chapter so whoops, I'm Sorry, Lightsaber Training (Star Wars), Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Sad Ending, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyitsya/pseuds/kyitsya
Summary: Bothered by Obi-Wan's refusal to grant him his own saber, Anakin decides to get a hold of his master's lightsaber to practice and prove himself. Let's just say the confrontation doesn't go too well...The consequences do not bode well, either.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to dkonc7 (Instagram) for allowing me to write a fic for his Goretober art!! Also, a big thanks to spicyboe (Instagram) as well for providing the idea to dkonc7 in the first place! I simply saw the art and I couldn't stop myself from creating this fic. 
> 
> Please go check out both of their art accounts cause their content slaps so hard 😌

The silver hilt lay heavy in his palms. Not to say that the actual lightsaber was hefty, no, but the reason for it being in his hands seemed to make the weapon possess more mass than it physically could. The kyber crystal hummed low, almost as if in disapproval.

Sure, he had taken it without permission and against his master's wishes, but that didn't mean he wasn't ready. Anakin had practically mastered the basic forms! In fact, he'd even go so far as to say that he had surpassed the other padawans. And yet... Obi-Wan refused to entrust him with his own lightsaber. No matter how much Anakin begged, the Gathering was restricted to him—all because he had arrived too late to the Temple.

_"Your emotions still run wild. A real lightsaber is a very sacred and dangerous tool, Anakin."_

Huffing out a breath, Anakin gripped at the hilt a bit too tightly. His emotions were fine, though it did hurt to see his master have so little faith in him. Maybe he'd soon see the truth—that Anakin was truly ready to advance. A few sessions with a real lightsaber and Anakin would be ready to prove that he was ready for his own kyber crystal, hence why he had swapped his own training lightsaber for Obi-Wan's.

It had been easy, really. Years as a slave did wonders to develop a smuggler's fingers with a knack for switching. Though rarely used, him and Kitster could always snatch something out of a Tatooine dweller's pockets. The skill certainly came in handy when he made the swap.

_Get Obi-Wan's lightsaber, practice with it, and prove him wrong._

Eyeing the 'saber, Anakin checked off the first goal. Now came the rest. He began with a wide arc, the blade buzzing as it—

"Anakin!" The stern voice had him nearly leaping out of his skin. The blade instantly retreated with a sharp _wsshp_. Swiveling around, Anakin found himself facing a disappointed Obi-Wan.

Anakin followed Obi-Wan's eyes that locked onto the weapon. "I can explain."

"I can't see what you could possibly say to me that would excuse you disobeying a direct order, Anakin. I've told you multiple times. You're simply not ready yet—"

"But I am! I know the forms. I do the katas everyday and you never have any complaints about them! Let me prove myself, I know I'm ready."

A hand drifted to Obi-Wan's face, a gentle version of an exasperated facepalm. He took a second before looking up at his padawan. His voice smoothened. "It's not about the physical training. I am fully aware of your technical prowess... But your mind is not prepared."

Advancing, Obi-Wan outstretched his hand.

Anakin took a step back.

"Please, master."

"Anakin." That strictness once more. Embers of rebellion and the determination to show his master what he was capable of sparked into a roaring flame. Just as Obi-Wan's hand tried to grasp the 'saber, Anakin fumbled to draw it away—fingers ghosted the activation button—and the smell of burning flesh pierced the air.

A sharp blue glow painted Obi-Wan's agonized expression. A blade reverberated mere inches from their faces, protruding out of his master's forearm. Anakin felt the cold of deep space seize him, his muscles freezing up... He was so shocked that he didn't act at all until waves of pain and thoughts of _don't move, don't move_ barreled into him from the other side of the bond, and **OH** **FORCE** he had just driven a lightsaber through his master.

At once, he deactivated the weapon and sent it clattering to the ground. His master reacted instantly, wrapping a hand near the wound, nails digging into skin. A strained breath left the slightly bent over man. Anakin could feel his master's efforts to deafen their connection and spare Anakin of his pain. Pain that _Anakin_ had caused.

Horror filled the boy.

"Master—..." Anakin choked out, retreating a couple steps back though it felt wrong to do so. His eyes locked onto the gruesome wound. Charred black peeked from under the burnt sleeve, a terrible stench hung in the air, and singed bone lay exposed to the outside. His instincts screamed at him to assist... He didn't dare get closer. No, he couldn't.

He was dangerous. A slave to his emotions just as the others had teased.

Voices rose up in a cacophony. Robes fluttered around him. A healer appeared by the injured Jedi's side. And despite the pain—despite the injury that his padawan had caused him—Obi-Wan's eyes searched for Anakin, pleading for the boy to not run away. Telling him that everything was alright, mistakes happen—

Except for the fact that such a thing would've never occurred with the other padawans.

His core screamed at him to flee, while his master begged for him to stay.

"Anakin—!"

Anakin turned tail and ran.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't really sure for how long they kept him in the Halls. Anesthesia did wonders to debilitate even the sharpest of minds. All he knew was that the blue blur of Vokara Che bustled around him as she worked to save his arm. At one point, there was only darkness, deep sleep taking him in.

He awoke to a muddled mind and a tightness around his arm. With a weak glance, he discovered a bacta cast encasing his wounded arm, restricting any chance of movement—not that he was planning to do so anytime soon. A tingle of pain ran up his arm and down his fingers, striking his fried nerves and making him wince.

A voice piped up.

"Welcome back, Kenobi. Luckily for you, the injury was isolated enough to spare you a trip to the tank." Vokara said, having suddenly appeared by his side with a cup of water in her grasp.

Obi-Wan swallowed dryly.

"...Thank you for that."

"Water?"

"Yes, please."

The water went down smoothly as she tilted the cup, careful not to overdo it. Once his thirst was sated, she set forward to inform him of his condition.

"Yes, well, the cast will have to stay on for quite a bit, I'm afraid. We filled in the bone and reconnected the muscles, but your nerves will need further rehabilitation. Physical therapy is in the future."

Obi-Wan blinked heavily. At least he still had his arm.

"I guess I'll have to put my duel with Vos on hold." Slurred cheek. It was all he could manage at the moment.

Vokara snorted distastefully. "Yes, I guess you will." Sighing, Vokara's lekku twitched. "Rest up. I'll send a healer to administer more pain medication later."

A spike of alertness shot through him at the sight of her robes in motion.

"Vokara—"

She stopped, turning to face him.

"How is he...?"

Her head dipped slightly, a look of uncertainty decorating her face.

"I can feel him right now… He is not in the best state."

His own grasp on the Force was slippery. Any attempt to search through it resulted in him missing the connection completely. The bond was muddled beyond recognition and Vokara’s answer did little to settle his worries.

"I need to see him—" A hand pushed back his attempt to sit up.

"What you really need is rest. You nearly lost your arm. He will only feel worse if you sacrifice your recovery right now. Seek him when you can actually stand."

Cool fingertips drifted onto his forehead. A calming sensation rang throughout him.

"Let yourself heal."

His eyes slid shut without further notice.

* * *

He drifted in and out of consciousness, any chance at letting his mind relax overcome by the building concern within him. He couldn't feel Anakin at all, his mind much too disarranged by the anesthesia.

He _knew_ that his padawan was in pain. Pain that Obi-Wan could've prevented had he been more careful—more attentive.

All the signs had been there.

He had understood that Anakin would strive to do something of the kind soon. The growing disbalance between the two was impossible to miss. His padawan was much too eager to prove himself. Deep within, Anakin harbored the same desire that Obi-Wan had once harbored as well in his youth: to earn a master's approval.

Obi-Wan failed. He had repeated the mistakes of his own master. He had driven his padawan to feel unworthy.

It was this realization that kept Obi-Wan restless, accompanied by prickling pain as the medication slowly drained out of his system. Obi-Wan let out a sharp breath through his nose. He reached out into the Force, scrambling to grasp any wisp of the bond and, ultimately, slipping in his attempt. The worry burned in his mind just as his arm ached.

Until... The feeling diminished. The physical ache remained, but something had soothed his core. A presence.

"...Anakin?" He murmured weakly, face scrunching slightly as the light bit at his weary eyes.

A shadow in the corner of his eye seemed to jump at his waking. Within the next blink, any trace of the shadow disappeared, and the lonely Halls greeted him in its stead. The chill of the vanished presence swept the room.

* * *

Released from the Halls the next day, Obi-Wan set forth to find Anakin.

Inputting the code with his free hand, the doors slid open with a _wiiisp_ , revealing the not-up-to-regulation room of his padawan. Sheets lay half rumpled upon the empty cot, discarded robes hung from the chair--one nearly brushing the floor--and various droid parts rested beneath the desk, hastily put away. This was nothing new; Obi-Wan had gotten used to such a display even though his fellow masters would be displeased at such a sight.

Padawan quarters were meant to be kept organized and tidy, yet he never found himself too aggravated by it. The boy did put in an effort. There were days where the room would be cleaner. Anakin wasn't a slob; he merely ran out of time. Droid tinkering, homework, or certain projects would run just a little too late which, in turn, would result in Anakin scrambling out of the room to meet Obi-Wan at their agreed time.

_He isn't exactly like every other Jedi..._

Obi-Wan's eyes skimmed the worn podracing posters glued to the walls and the scuffed up starfighter model sitting on the top of the desk, the last remaining relics from Tatooine. Pacing up to the model, he took it into his hands, fingers running across the scratches that, no doubt, had been the result of the toy's rough handling.

_Then again, his background differs greatly as well._

Anakin was not a conventional Jedi. He never would be. His past clung on too tight as well as the heavy shackles of slavery. To expect him to act as obediently as the other padawans—who had been brought up in a temple of rules and care—would not only be unfair, but cruel.

A moment of deep thought fell upon him as if it were a blanket of fresh snow.

Perhaps it had been wrong of him to keep Anakin away from a milestone development such as acquiring a lightsaber. The act only widened an already seething gap between Anakin and his peers and had merely fueled his doubt in his abilities. This was not to say that Obi-Wan's caution about the matter was unfounded, but maybe it was time to listen. Force knows that Obi-Wan, himself, had been hurt by a lack of an open ear before.

An unconscious curl of his fingers sent a spike of pain up his arm. Glancing at the sterile white of his bacta cast, Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes. Weaving through the thousands of Force signatures, he searched for Anakin, and was struck by the turmoil that radiated through their connection. His location, however, evaded the knight's seeking.

Stoically, Obi-Wan set the starfighter back on its designated place and exited the room.

* * *

He only gained a clue of the boy's whereabouts thanks to Jocasta Nu. With a delicate swing of her arm, she offered Anakin's last heading. Obi-Wan thanked her with a bow and continued his path, mind racing after the encounter. To Obi-Wan's dismay, the look of sympathy in her wizened eyes told him what he had feared most was true. The Temple knew.

It had been inevitable; he was no fool. The... unfortunate accident had happened in a highly populated area of the Temple, so Obi-Wan had held no hope for the story to be contained. But the look in Nu's eyes spelled trouble for them. Things were about to get much more difficult for his padawan and his outcast status.

But they could deal with that later. Would have to deal with that later. First, he had to find Anakin.

Obi-Wan descended down a grand spiral staircase. The bottom of his boots met the stone steps softly, though the absolute silence that dominated the enclosed space amplified the clacking significantly. With a furrow of his brows, he realized that the staircase perfectly mimicked the bond at that moment; empty due to Anakin's withdrawal, yet resonating loudly with both participants' guilt.

Shaking off the thought, Obi-Wan dragged his attention back to the present. Self-pity would do nothing to heal their conflict. He had no clue as to where exactly his padawan had fled, the lower levels were quite extensive, but he knew how Anakin functioned.

No doubt he would avoid the Archives, as well as any other area popular by the older Jedi. No, he would seek a sanctuary, one that would present the least possibilities of stumbling upon another Jedi. A quick dip into the Force, now much sparser of signatures due to his concentration on one area, revealed the knowledge that he had been looking for. Burning as bright as Coruscant did through night or day, Anakin's signature emanated from the Lake Level.

Stepping foot onto the artificial grass, a gentle sky greeted him as rays of sunshine floated through the air. A cool lake stretched through the room, its waters beckoning for him to settle by its side and meditate until he was as smooth as its surface. It was the perfect room to achieve peace in… as well as the perfect sanctuary for one who wanted to be left alone.

Anakin sat with his back to Obi-Wan, his body locked in the lotus position though its state was far from relaxed. Tension ran up the boy’s spine, his shoulders experienced the occasional tremble, and seething waves of frustration emanated off him.

Obi-Wan's surroundings were a picture of pure serenity... But a storm raged in its midst, caused by guilt and anger. 

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

His ignorance had caused this agony. The guilt that swamped Anakin screeched at Obi-Wan to swat it away and assure him that he had not been in the wrong concerning the accident—

"I'm sorry." Anakin's mutter disrupted the master's thoughts, bringing him back to the now slightly hunched figure.

 _At least he hasn't fled yet_ , Obi-Wan noted, sensing the padawan's unease. He was afraid to confront him.

"You have nothing to apologize for." Obi-Wan lowered himself Anakin, hoping that the other would not run. “It was an accident.”

Thankfully, Anakin did not flee.

"Yes... But I was the one who stole the lightsaber." With Obi-Wan now by his side, Anakin's eyes darted to catch a glimpse of his expression before retreating to the safety of the water's surface.

"And I was the master who, unfairly, chose not to grant you one."

"You had good reason." Anakin murmured, dejectedly. "You always do. I'm not like the other padawans."

"You are right, you are not." His padawan's gloom deepened significantly. "But that is not necessarily a bad thing."

"How, if being a Jedi is everything that I'm _not_?" Bite in the last word, Anakin swiped at the lake with a clawed hand. Haphazard ripples painted the surface, distorting their once clear reflections.

"Anakin, you made a mistake. Everyone falls victim to them.”

"Then why does it seem as if I'm the only one who does? Why am I the only padawan whose master doubts him? Padawan and master must have a connection, so why do I not have your trust?” Anger bubbled within the boy next to him, jagged and foreign to the serene room. "I know that I’m not perfect, but I _do_ try."

"That..." Obi-Wan paused. He ruminated on his word selection, cautious of striking a wrong chord. "is my fault. I knew your past, but I wasn't willing to bend... I am sorry, Anakin. It is I who opened this rift between us."

Anakin said nothing. He merely kept his eyes locked onto the water that had once again smoothened out. At the lack of response, Obi-Wan's brows furrowed.

"Anakin... We may be Jedi, but we are not machines. We are living beings and we _feel_ emotions: happiness, sadness, anger, fear. No matter the misconception, we do not train to purge ourselves of emotion, but merely to get a rein on them. However, no Jedi ever achieves complete control. It is simply impossible. I judged you too harshly and paid for my error—"

"Master, I almost took off your arm!" Anakin cried incredulously.

Raising his casted arm, Obi-Wan meekly wiggled his fingers. "Almost doesn't count.”

“It does, though! As your padawan, I should have your back. Instead, I hurt you…” Anakin’s eyes trailed to Obi-Wan’s immobilized hand. “I doubt that all the other padawans could say the same.”

“Perhaps not, but every single padawan has inflicted and received their fair share of mental wounds.” In fact, Obi-Wan could remember his own scuffles with Qui-Gon a bit too well. “Not a single bond is without fractures, Anakin. No harm, no foul… Though in this case, there was a bit of harm. On both sides.”

They fell into silence, both parties thinking over the conversation. To Obi-Wan’s relief, the brutal winds of guilt that had whipped at Anakin seemed to slow down their roar. But the gears in Anakin’s head continued to spin.

“I won’t be your padawan anymore, will I?” Anakin murmured, shocking the master.

“Whatever are you implying?

“The Council. They weren’t happy to have me here since the beginning. I can’t imagine that they’ll let this slide. I’m dangerous...”

“Anakin.” Firmness painted his tone and, finally, blue met blue. “I assure you, that will _never_ happen. I swore to see your training to the end, and I intend to keep that promise. You won’t fall, Anakin. I know this because I’ll be right by your side, always. There is good in you. Good that is too strong to be extinguished.”

A glassiness settled over Anakin’s eyes and Obi-Wan felt his heart shatter. It was horrific to think that such simple words had such an effect on the boy, though he understood why. Praise was something that Anakin received rarely—it was almost as rare as moisture on the sands of Tatooine. In his struggle to stay true to the Code, he had let himself stray away from Anakin and let the negativity swamp his pupil. It had been foolish of him to never address the pains that had plagued his padawan. 

Hands reaching out, Obi-Wan wrapped them around the boy and drew him near. Anakin, in turn, latched on and simply basked in the human contact. The storm diminished to a simple breeze.

He knew this wasn’t the end of the troubles to come.

But, for now, they were alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I never expected to actually follow up chapter one, but here we are!! If anything contradicts itself, I apologize. I kind of full sent this chapter. However, good news, I finally know how to finish this fic thanks to o_r_te_ka.ra on Instagram, who also reminded me about the possibility of having the Council be involved! So, many thanks to her!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed and I'll see y'all in the next chapter :)


	3. Chapter 3

The inability to do anything was quite possibly the worst feeling Anakin had ever felt, especially with his future on the line behind the looming doors of the council room with no one to represent him but his master. He couldn't even catch a piece of the deliberating, the doors doing their duty in preventing any prying ears from spying in quite well. The only thing which remained was the bond, which did little to calm him as uncertainty emanated from the older Jedi.

Obi-Wan was clearly tackling heavy questions and concerns, mind racing fast while, simultaneously, attempting to keep himself balanced. Anakin did not dare to interrupt. He had put his master in such a spot, the least he could do was allow him to think without any burden.

_I could be sent back._

The thought mortified him, his heartbeat spiking. What if Obi-Wan failed? What if he _was_ deemed too dangerous? Master Yoda himself had said that his future was clouded. _He could lose Obi-Wan._ He could very well lose his home and freedom if the verdict revealed itself to be bad. Yes, he had his difficulties with the Temple and the Code, but they certainly paled in comparison to the life of bondage back on Tatooine. What would his mother say if he were to come back?

Working through the unbearably hot days and freezing nights, his mother had poured all her energy into saving enough to barter for Anakin's liberation, all the while soothing him with tales of life beyond Tatooine. Anakin had listened intently to her promises of planets with gorgeous vegetation, buildings that scraped at the heavens, and of emancipation. They were light years away from the sands of their planet, but they _existed_ and Anakin longed to see them.

 _"You will be free one day."_ His mother had once said, though he had been so exhausted at the time that he could only miserably deject the idea; any hope of not having to come running at Watto's every beck and call sounded impossible. In response, she had swept away those doubts with stories of the Jedi and their righteous code. Since that day, he had convinced himself that they would come for them.

And they did, in the form of Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. The joy in his mother's weathered eyes had said more than words could as she cradled his face between her palms, whispering of how it was his destiny to accompany them.

_"I.. will become a Jedi and I will come back and free you, Mom...I promise."_

He had not forgotten his commitment. He had worked his hardest to become the liberator he had dreamed of.

That promise was now on the brink of decimation. If the council exiled him, all would be lost. Anakin doubted that the universe would be kind enough to offer him the chance to free himself and his mother again. Panic bloomed in his already constricted chest. He couldn't do that. He couldn't fail his mother like that.

Obi-Wan promised. He had said that there was good in Anakin, surely the Council would see that too. It had only been a mistake. It would never happen again. So desperate was he that Anakin found himself praying into the mystical depths of the Force, offering promise after promise that he would never stray again if he could simply _stay_.

"Anakin."

He leapt at the touch of his shoulder, breaking out of his panicked thoughts and nearly stumbling as he spun to greet Obi-Wan. Tired was the first thing that came to mind when Anakin's eyes took in his master's face. He looked drained, as if a part of him remained behind the shut doors.

"It's over." Obi-Wan knelt on one knee before him.

Anakin felt his stomach drop.

"There will be consequences, but you will not be exiled. The Council has agreed for you to stay as my padawan." A small smile crawled onto Obi-Wan's face. He almost lost his footing when Anakin barreled right into him, his arms wrapping around his neck in an embrace. Sweet relief and thankfulness radiated throughout Anakin. Obi-Wan hadn't failed. He could still be Obi-Wan's padawan and become a Jedi. He could still save Mom.

At the lack of response from his frozen master, a hint of fear dashed through him. What if he was pushing it? What if this was too out of line, all things considered? Anakin slackened his hold, ready to pull away, but a comforting hand settling onto his back and a wave of reassurance from Obi-Wan's side of the bond ceased his efforts.

"Thank you." Anakin murmured, holding on tight to his master's robes as if he would be pulled away at any minute. But there was no need for that. His place in the Temple had been secured. The Force had smiled on him today.

* * *

Assembling the lightsaber with the Force took little to no struggle. To Anakin, the task resembled any other invention he had built, though the energy which he had channeled into the lightsaber differed. Content with his 'saber's look, he gently let it down until it settled into his open palms.

Holding the silver hilt— _his own hilt_ —Anakin felt a sense of wholeness settle over him. And, this time, the kyber crystal did not voice its disapproval, but merely hummed in unison with his presence. He was one step closer to becoming a full-fledged Jedi.

He felt the round shape of the activation button under the pad of his finger, hesitation striking him. Anakin took a second to collect himself.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

A brilliant blue sparked before him. Staring at the sight before him, Anakin wove the blade through the air, feeling its power reverberate. It was a part of him as much as one of his own limbs. An extension of himself. No training 'saber could compare.

Anakin must have stared at the weapon for quite some time because the clearing of a throat made him look up to see the amused face of his master. The proud glint in his eyes couldn't be missed.

* * *

As a dutiful padawan, Anakin would always accompany his master to his medical visits—usually in the form of him dragging Obi-Wan to the Halls because of the man's insistent dislike of them—and this time wasn't any different. Though unhappy to be in the room, Obi-Wan appeared less inconvenienced once the bacta had been suctioned and the cast had been undone.

With a swipe of a towel, the remaining bacta was cleared and Anakin's eyes were quick to find the scar that had etched itself into his Obi-Wan's arm. The healing substance could work wonders on repairing costly wounds, but it had its limits. Obi-Wan's nerves were part of the exception due to their delicate nature, Master Che informed them. Despite his nerves being physically whole once more, his master would have to take care and work on his arm to regain his strength and his dexterity. Concerning the leftover pain from the damage, Master Che could only offer the Force and meditation as a solution.

"Even with bacta, they're still relatively fresh and fragile. It'll take time for your body to naturally mend them, a process that I cannot hasten, unfortunately."

No matter his efforts to stay cool, guilt burrowed deep within the padawan at the information. Obi-Wan, taking notice of this, acted quickly.

"It seems I'll be joining you in your lightsaber and meditation drills, Anakin." Obi-Wan joked, trying to lighten the mood. Master Che, always the strict healer, did not let that slide.

"You won't be getting anywhere near a lightsaber before we handle the basics first, Kenobi, or I will personally confiscate it."

Any protest was muffled by Master Che's jump into the drills that Obi-Wan would have to face. Anakin took care to watch keenly as the twi'lek occasionally addressed some tasks meant for him, such as making sure to oversee that his master would follow the instructions and helping with a hand massage when needed.

He had caused this damage, whether he liked it or not, and he was intent on doing his best to heal it.

* * *

 _He never truly recovered from the injury_ , He noted, mind returning to the present.

Obi-Wan's strikes were fast and lethal, but never to the degree to which they had once been. The strength behind each blow fluctuated depending on his pain and his tolerance that day.

The older Jedi was by no means done for. The pain was a minor setback for someone as well-versed in the Force as Obi-Wan. A mind crippled by betrayal, however, served wonders to the enemy that Obi-Wan faced. It certainly helped Vader now.

Step for step, blow for blow, Vader and Obi-Wan matched each other in a deadly dance, lightsabers sparking and sending sizzles of light to the ground with each collision. There was no trace of play, no softening of any blow. Each swing of his blade had only one purpose: eliminate the master that had failed him. Obi-Wan had no place by his side. His allegiance to the corrupted Order was too deeply seated, making him blind to the liberating efforts that Darth Sidious had put into effect.

The Jedi (once his home, his culture) had to be eliminated. He could hold no sympathy for them. Any chance of the Republic regaining its peace was vanquished by their poisonous hold on the political war. Any chance of saving Padmé would disappear if he ignored Sidious' offer. He had already lost his mother, the very reason he had joined the Order, due to their incompetence. He could not allow such an error again.

It pleased him to see the turmoil in Obi-Wan's eyes. _Good. Let him feel anguish_. A sick sense of glee squirmed its way through the fire within Vader. Obi-Wan's normally cool mask earned a fracture with each blow, with each wave of rage that Vader sent his way. Their bond shrieked; its wails krayt-like from the pain that ravaged it. It tore slowly, agony smashing into them with each thread that snapped, and Obi-Wan's strikes grew weaker and weaker.

He felt the tremble of Obi-Wan's arm as their 'sabers locked, the older Jedi's legs straining against the rocky terrain as he fought to keep ground. A look flashed in Obi-Wan's wide, alert eyes. They knew each other too well for either of them to land a solid hit. Every move and strategy memorized, their battle played out like a choreographed waltz, until now. A weakness presented itself, the field was no longer even.

Vader dove for that weakness and Obi-Wan parried, his movements a bit more erratic as they leapt across the molten lava, any miscalculated move arousing the chance of a terrible death.

"I have failed you, Anakin. I have failed you."

_"I'll be right by your side, always."_

_Lies_ , his mind whispered, _all lies_. He had been too naïve and too young to understand the lack of weight in those words. Obi-Wan had never intended to stay by his side, not if it meant discarding the Order.

"I should have known the Jedi were plotting to take over."

"Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil." The pleading look in his old master's eyes irritated him.

"From my point of view, the Jedi are evil."

"Well then you are lost!" Obi-Wan snapped and Vader felt that phantom spike of foreign pain running up his forearm. Vader’s eyes burned dangerously, already envisioning the fall of the Jedi.

"This is the end for you, my master. I wish it were otherwise."

One leap forward, one leap back. Vader glowered at the Jedi who stood on the steep sandy edge, throwing his arms out.

"It's over, Anakin, I have the high ground!"

Always doubting him, always reducing his skills to nothing.

"You underestimate my power."

"Don't try it."

A desperate ploy by the Jedi to avoid a fight. Vader knew that Obi-Wan's aching arm would lean in his favor, he could not let a fleeing enemy win.

Intent for this to be the last strike, Vader surged forward, eyes locked on his target. He would put an end to the disgrace before him.

The plummet was disorienting, the shock from his sliced limbs even more so, but feral instinct forced his remaining hand to latch onto the obsidian sand, metal fingers grasping desperately at _anything_ to stop his descent. The lava bubbled below him, its maw awaiting him.

"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in Darkness!" Obi-Wan yelled.

Pain rippled through Vader, his lungs gasping as he only slid closer and closer to his doom. Pain could be crippling, but it could also bring a sweet clearness of mind. His actions, his situation, his state hit him. The anguish that he had laid upon the Temple swept his mind. His mecha-hand strained as it tried to keep a grip, but it only managed to imitate the Force chokehold that he had maintained on his wife not too long ago. His mind reeled.

_"There is good in you. Good that is too strong to be extinguished."_

Another lie. Another offense to add to Obi-Wan's growing list. Obi-Wan yelled of Vader's Fall, yet it was his own failure that condemned him to such a faith. He had watched his stumbling, had done nothing about it, and now had come to put Vader down as if he were a rabid animal. Obi-Wan was not here to help him, he was here to rid the universe of his mistake.

" **I hate you!** " Vader spat, body shaking with rage that had nowhere else to go, tears spilling over his lashes and clearing paths down his soot covered face.

He didn't hate Obi-Wan. He _loved_ Obi-Wan; he always had. But now, now... there was only disgust. Only bitterness remained in the mangled shell that was his body, Obi-Wan's broken promises echoing through his head.

_He had said that he would be my side. He had said that he would not let me Fall. A master looks out for his padawan._

"You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!"

So why had he given up on him? Why had he let this happen?

_Obi-Wan!_

He felt himself slide further.

**_Obi-Wan!_ **

Scorching heat engulfed him, devouring clothing, and flesh alike, and Vader screeched. Words tried to escape his mouths, pleas on the tip of his tongue, but all he could do was _scream_. His clawed hand raked at the sandy bank, erratically digging its fingers to pull himself up. A hopeless effort. He only sank further down.

Wordlessly, his only chance at rescue turned his back on the scene, his work done.

Any attempts to release coherent sounds vanished. His body _burned_ , the flames melting and disfiguring it beyond repair. Vader released his agony, his rage, and his sorrow out into the world until his throat was hoarse. His lungs burned, though he wasn't sure whether it was from his howls or the sizzling fumes.

No hope of refuge from the flames.

His master—his best friend—gone and a traitor.

Padmé's status: unknown.

His life was ending.

Vader screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. How we feeling, lads?
> 
> ONCE AGAIN, thank you so much to my homie o_r_te_ka.ra on Instagram for her help! I probably would not have finished this fic without her so many thanks🙏
> 
> I'm open for constructive criticism! In fact, I'm actually urging y'all to do so if you found something odd. I'd like to improve my writing so I'll happily accept any tips or critiques :)
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed!


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